


A Quirk in the Machinery

by You_Are_Constance



Series: Fixed and Frozen [1]
Category: The Clockmaker's Daughter - Webborn/Finn
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Music, i don't know where it went but i like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 12,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26847391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Are_Constance/pseuds/You_Are_Constance
Summary: During another year of The Turning of the Key, something goes different from all the years before. Something no one expected, but one person had hoped. Constance returned, but not quite the same as before.Or maybe exactly as the same as before.
Relationships: William Riley/Constance Reed
Series: Fixed and Frozen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989670
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. Something Different

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea at some point during the school day and I've been itching to write it ever since. Unlike the other stuff I've posted, I haven't actually worked this out all the way yet, so I don't know exactly how it's going to work out, or if it has a happy ending. I'll likely go back and make changes when I'm done, though.  
> Also I'm going to try to name each chapter title after a song from a musical, (more than just tcd) so we'll see how many of you know the same ones I do!  
> (if y'all are reading this you already know what the title is from)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another year of The Turning of the Key, but this one is different. This one has a different outcome than all the others.

Another year gone, another winter past. Another year of waiting. Another year that nothing had changed, but Will still held out hope. He still knew that sometime, one of these years, she would return. His love would come back to him. Someday

He just had to wait until then.

Will handed off the key, standing back and watching as the girl took the key and stepped up beside the small platform. The girl inserted the key into Constance’s back and twisted it. He held his breath, hoping, wishing, _praying_ that this year would be the one, as he had every year before.

Everything seemed to stop for a moment when she seemed to quiver. Will lunged forward and barely managed to catch her in his arms as she fell.

He looked down at her, in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and she was curled up as tightly as she could be. She would certainly be disoriented for a little while. He looked back at the town, who were staring at them in shock.

They shouldn’t technically be surprised. He’d told them the story, many times. He would have lectured them, but right now that didn’t seem to matter at the moment.

“That would be all, folks!” he announced. “Go back home!” He quickly grabbed the key then ran off with Constance in his arms, hoping that no one would follow them. Once they were far enough from the town, Will stopped, beginning to set Constance down on the ground. He slipped off the mask, the hood being pushed back as he did so, one hand still grasping Constance’s arm.

He looked at her, studied her for a moment, but she didn’t say anything. Her expression was blank.

“Constance?” he asked quietly, taking both of her hands in his. “Do you know me? Do you remember?”

She looked down to the ground, her face contorting as she concentrated.

“Re-mem-ber.”

No.

Of anything Will had imagined could happen, this one hadn’t crossed his mind, at least, not for longer than a moment before he dismissed it.

He had considered the pain and shock she’d feel at realizing that everyone and everything she knew (besides himself) had disappeared, but he never once thought that she might not remember them at all.

Constance didn’t remember anything. She didn’t know a single thing that had happened before. Her memory was completely wiped, and now Will had to be the one to teach her all over again.


	2. Come Home With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will starts teaching Constance the things she used to know. It's certainly going to be a long process.

Will only panicked for a second or two before he tried to focus on the problem at hand. Constance didn’t know who or what she was, she didn’t know him, where she was, or even how to form sentences together. She was starting from the beginning.

“Constance,” he pointed to her. “Can you say that?”

“That.”

He should have seen that coming.

“Constance,” he tried again. “Say, Constance.”

“Con-stance,” she repeated. “Constance.”

“Yes!” he smiled. He took her hand and gently laid it on her chest. “You are Constance.”

“You are Constance.”

He shook his head. He pointed to himself, “Me,” then to her, “You.”

She seemed to be thinking very hard about this. She pointed to Will. “Me,” then to herself, “You.”

He shook his head again. He took her hand again, pointing it to herself. “Constance.” He let go of her hand and took half a step backward.

She tried again, pointing to herself. “Me,” then to him, “You.”

Will smiled again. “Yes! You’re getting it!”

He pointed to himself again, “Will.”

She pointed to him and repeated, “Will.”

“Yes!” he cheered.

She smiled. Will loved to see her smile. She excitedly pointed to him again, repeating, “Will,” then to herself, “Constance.”

He nodded again, smiling even wider. This was going to be difficult. He didn’t know if she would ever be the same. If she would ever be back to where she was before, but he was going to try.

He was going to take any chance and use any effort required to try.

Will took her hand again. “Want to go home?” They probably shouldn’t stay out here much longer.

“Home? What is home?”

“It’s… A home is a place you love.”

“What is love?”

He hadn’t wanted to get into difficult questions like this so quickly. He had wanted to take it slowly, to make sure he did this right.

“When you love someone, you care about them very much,” he tried. “You want to be with them forever, and you never want to let them go.”

He felt a sharp pain as he explained this to her, and she had no idea. Everything she knew right now was what he had told her, and he didn’t know if that would ever change.

“Come with me,” he told her, forcing back his pain and beginning to lead her back home. “I have more to tell you there.”


	3. Wonderful

Will led Constance back to the manor on the edge of town that used to belong to Abraham Reed. It hadn’t belonged to that man in years, technically over a century. Since he had died—and even before—Will had lived there. He’d taken care of it for so long, just waiting for the day she could come back. Technically, she had. She was there, with him, but she wasn’t _really_ there.

When they were inside, Will dropped the mask beside the door then led Constance to the main room, the largest room, with the window that Will always sat in front of. That one window overlooked all of Spindlewood and had an excellent view of the square. He glanced out the window briefly, checking to make sure they wouldn’t have company. It looked like the town had retreated into their homes for the night. Good.

He just wasn’t sure how long their privacy would last.

Hopefully long enough.

Constance followed him to the window, gazing longing out it.

“What is that?” She pointed towards the town that they had just left. It looked much better from here then it did from below.

“Spindlewood,” he told her. She repeated it, then he continued. “If you want, we can go back in a little while.” He knew that Abraham had tried to keep her locked up, and Will swore not to make the same mistakes he had. “Would you like that?” She nodded. “So we will,” he decided. “But first, how about we learn some more?”

She nodded again. “I would like that.” She formed each word slowly, it clearly taking a lot of thought to string together a sentence. He was proud of her; she was learning quickly.

Will continued to teach her all through the night until the sun rose over Spindlewood. At this point, he was running out of definitions to give her.

“What is this?” she asked, picking up a book from an end table.

“A book.”

“A book.”

“It tells a story without speaking a word.”

She opened it and looked at it strangely. “What kind of story?”

“Any kind,” he told her. “All of them are different.”

“How does it tell?”

“Well,” he took the book out of her hands, showing her an open page, “these little black markings are called words—"

"Words? I know words!"

"Yes, you do," he smiled. "These words are the same thing we speak, but it’s written down. The words are made up of letters, which each make different sounds. The letters make the words, the words make sentences, and eventually, the sentences make stories.”

“Learn?” she asked excitedly. She then corrected herself at seeing Will’s expression. “Can I learn?”

Will nodded, closing the book and walking to a bookshelf nearby. He grabbed paper and ink, first off, then grabbed a different book that would be better to start with. Then he led Constance to sit, him sitting beside her, and he started to teach her. He taught her all the letters and the different sounds they make. She practiced writing them, then learned how to write her name and Will’s after that. Then he started helping her read the book he had chosen.

It wasn’t very long, just a simple faery tale, but it was good to start with.

Like everything else, Constance caught on quickly. She flew right through the first book he had chosen and immediately asked for another one.

“Are all stories as… as…” She was struggling to find the right word. Will suggested a couple, but none of them seemed to fit in her mind. “As won-der-ful as that? Is that the right word?”

Will nodded. “Wonderful is the right word. It means something is truly great.”

“Are all stories as wonderful?”

He saw the hopeful look on her face and wanted to tell her that everything was just as wonderful as she thought. He wanted it to be true, but he didn’t want to lie to her.

“No,” he said eventually. “Not all stories are wonderful like that.” Her face fell. “But,” he continued, not being able to bear seeing her sad, “some are even better.”

“Better?”

He nodded. “Better.”


	4. Believe

It wasn’t long before Constance had read every book in the house. She loved the books and treasured the stories.

It gave Will time to figure out what to do.

She was falling in love with the same stories over again. That was a good sign. It meant that she was still in there, somewhere. She wasn’t completely different. Will just had to find a way to bring those memories back, and everything would be fine.

Well, maybe not everything.

Some things might be better if she didn’t remember before. She wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of losing everyone.

He could always teach her anything she needed to know, but he could never teach or fix the friendships and family she had forgotten. It would cause pain to know they were gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Constance go without remembering them.

It was decided then. He’d try to spark her memories to return. He had to.

But how?

Will glanced around the room, trying to find something, _anything_ that might cause her to remember something.

His gaze landed on a small stack of fabric with a needle and thread sitting atop it.

That could work.

He carefully grabbed the stack and brought it out to the main room where Constance was reading one of the last books left in the house. She looked up at him when he entered.

“What is that?” she asked as Will sat down beside her.

“Another thing we’re going to try,” he told her, then he began to show her how it was done. Growing up the only child of the town’s dressmaker had certainly influenced his skill set. He was nowhere near as talented at sewing as Constance had been—it would be difficult to get even close to where she’d been—but he could do it well enough to get by, and in this case, to re-teach her.

This took a lot longer for her to begin to understand.

She looked at the fabric piled in the lap. “And you make? Make what?”

“Anything you want,” Will urged her. “You can make anything that you can think of.”

“But… what?”

“What do you want to make?”

She was quiet for a little while.

“I… I don’t know,” she eventually said.

“That’s okay,” he told her. “You don’t always have to know. If you want, I can help you get started.”

She looked at him for a moment then nodded.

“Alright then, let’s start with something simple.” He reached around her, beginning to guide her hands and show her how it worked. It was painstakingly slow work, but she was starting to catch on. Hours later—Will wasn’t sure quite how long—they had succeeded in creating a small, simple bag.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Constance shook her head. Will studied her expression for a moment, but there was nothing. No sign that she was starting to remember something. Nothing.

He felt the sharp pain again as she asked him for help on making something else, but he pushed it back. Maybe it would just take more time.

This time Will just gave her instruction beforehand on how to make something a little more complicated, then sat back, watching her as she worked. She would ask for help every so often and Will would oblige, but she managed to figure it out on her own for the most part.

When that was finished, Will took the remaining fabric and thread and went to put it away, or at least ‘away enough’ to not make a mess. When he returned, he caught Constance staring out the window again.

“When can we go out?” she asked, turning to face him.

Will glanced out the window. It was still bright outside, but it likely wouldn’t be much longer until the sun began to set. For the moment though, Will wasn’t sure if they should. The town was still quite busy. He looked back to Constance, her eyes pleading with him.

“Soon,” he told her.

“When?”

“Tonight,” he decided. “When it’s dark and even more beautiful. Does that sound alright?”

Constance glanced back out the window then back at him. She nodded. “It sounds wonderful.”

That seemed to be Constance’s new favorite word.


	5. Somewhere That's Green

When the sun had set and the town had quieted down, Will kept to his promise, him and Constance going down to the town as she had wanted. It hadn’t been that long since The Turning of the Key, only a few days, but the town seemed as if it had already forgotten them.

Will wasn’t completely sure if that was a good thing.

As they walked through the town—Constance exploring slightly ahead and Will watching her from behind—Will considered more options to spark her memory.

He could always try telling her the story. The story he’d told in the square every year on the barrier between winter and spring. Her story. It could work, but if it didn’t, if she never did get her memories back, Will wasn’t sure if he’d want her to be burdened by the story, by the knowledge that she had a past she couldn’t remember.

He decided to think about that more later. Then he came up with another idea.

Will ran to catch up with Constance (who was a good way ahead of him), then asked her, “Do you want to see somewhere even more beautiful?”

She nodded excitedly. “Where?”

Will grabbed her hand and started to lead her. “This way.”

Constance still looked around as he led her away from town and into the countryside. It wasn’t far from town, but it was far enough.

Will stopped once they arrived, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hand. He didn’t need to, because she pulled her hand out of his and stepped away, towards the brook that ran through the green countryside. The moon and starlight shined on the clear water, creating an almost magical effect on the area.

He’d brought Constance here before when they had first met, and then they had met there again many times after, but since Constance had been frozen, Will could hardly bring himself to come back. He hadn’t done it often, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten about this place.

How could he forget? It was the most beautiful place Will had ever been, with the greenest grass and the clearest water, and the best view of the sunsets.

This place was truly a wonder.

Will was glad he got to see Constance experience seeing it for the first time again since she was always to enthusiastic and joyful with this sort of thing, but he wished that it wasn’t because of this.

He wished she could remember, and they could finally be together, fully, after all this time. He’d been waiting so long, never even thinking of doing what he always had wanted and leaving Spindlewood because he couldn’t leave her. All that, and it seemed like she was the one who ended up leaving him.

She could still come back. Will knew she could, somehow. He just had to find a way.

When Will turned his thoughts back to the present, he found that Constance had made her way to the brook and was now laying down by the bank, her hands dipped into the water. Will wandered over and sat down beside her. He took off his shoes, setting them beside him, and dipped his feet into the cold water.

Constance seemed to be mesmerized by the crystal-like water moving quickly past both of them. She eventually sat up, echoing his movement of taking off her shoes and dipping her feet into the water. She dried off her hands on her skirt—which was getting rather dirty—and stared up at the star-speckled night sky.

“It’s wonderful,” she whispered. Will stared lovingly at her as she stared up at the sky, immediately feeling at least a little better at her good attitude. She didn’t seem to notice his look, which was alright. She didn’t need to see. She didn’t need to know how much he loved her, and how much it pained him to have her like this. She didn’t need to know his pain.

Will knew they’d need to get back home before too long. He didn’t know if the rest of the town knew about this spot, or if they’d come here in the morning, but it would be best to be safe, rather than regret it.

Maybe someday Will would feel comfortable enough to go out freely into the town, but someday was not today. He had to focus on the present, instead of worrying about the future.

When the sky began to lighten, Will stood up, grabbing his shoes in one hand and urging Constance that it was time to go.

“Do we have to?” she complained.

Will nodded. He hated to force her into anything, but they did have to get home.

She grabbed her shoes and stood up, echoing Will’s movements, then started walking back home. It seemed she already had the path memorized.

That was quite fast, but she was a fast learner. Will had found that out quickly.

Will sped up to catch up to Constance before they were all the way back.

When they returned, Constance sat down once again, picking up the book she was nearly finished with and resuming her place, while Will grabbed the small leather-bound book he’d been writing in and a pencil then sat down across from Constance.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to write. He’d been so busy these last couple of days that he hadn’t had time to think of anything. He glanced over to Constance, who was curled up in the chair, the book only a breath away from her face as she seemed to absorb the story, and he knew.

He’d written out this story before and he’d told it even more, but this was going to be slightly different from before.

This one wasn’t to retell a story as part of a tradition. This one was to spark something. And hopefully, this spark would cause a flood.


	6. Once Upon Another Time

Will finished writing it out that night. He knew the story by heart and could recite it immediately when needed, but this wasn’t about reciting it. He spent most of the day writing but always responded immediately when Constance asked for him, which wasn't often.

She switched between reading, sewing (which she was still getting the hang of), and wandering around the house. She stayed inside, except for when they both went out behind the house for a part of the day.

That next morning, Will debated how he should tell the story. He wondered if he should let Constance read it herself or read it aloud. He figured that either one could work, but he wasn’t sure which one would be better.

So he decided to ask her.

“I wrote a story,” he told her, sitting down beside her. She closed what Will was fairly sure was the last book in the house and looked at him. “Do you want to read it?”

She nodded, grabbing for it, but Will held it out of her reach.

“Do you want to read it yourself or do you want me to read it to you?” he asked. Constance stopped reaching.

“Read it to me,” she told him.

Will nodded, standing up in front of Constance, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement.

He closed his eyes, getting into character. It was odd for him to assume this persona (or whatever it was called) so near to the last time, and without the costume, but in order to truly tell a story, he had to become The Storyteller. It was his way of letting the listener get the full story, including the feeling behind it.

Then he began the story. He didn’t change much, only making sure that within the story he didn’t say either of their names. If it sparked something and her memories came back, it wouldn’t matter, but if it didn’t, she wouldn’t be burdened by the knowledge of a past life.

“Once upon a time,” he began. He didn’t usually begin with that phrase, but he changed it this time because he knew Constance loved that phrase in the stories she had read. “In a land not far from here, there lived a clockmaker. A master of his craft. Broken, at the loss of a child. Lost, in the death of love.”

And he continued from there.

He told everything, from her being created to the wedding, from the offer of work at the city to the discovery, from the first gunshot to the second and even beyond.

“And legend says that the girl lives on, trapped in time. She is worshiped by the very people who cast her out. And the boy, the boy who gave his life because of love, still waits. Be it through life or death, he awaits the return of his one love.”

He stopped, glancing hopefully at her. She didn’t react badly to it. Will wasn’t sure if that was a good sign.

“What do you think?” he eventually prompted.

“Is… Is that where it ends?” she asked.

Will sat down next to her again. “I’m not actually sure yet. I think it could have more, don’t you?”

Wow. He was truly desperate, wasn’t he?

She nodded. “It should have a happy ending, where the girl comes back, and the boy is waiting for her, and they can be happy and in love.”

“That does sound nice.” He felt the sharp pain again. He desperately wanted the happy ending that Constance suggested. He wanted it to be true, but just writing it in wouldn’t make it true.

“So you can just end it like that,” she told him.

“I wish I could.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t always control stories like this,” he explained. “I may be the one writing it down, but really, sometimes the story writes itself, and this is one of those times.”

“Oh, well, I hope it writes itself a happy ending.”

_Me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will is a writer and you can fight me on this


	7. Remember This

After everything he had done, everything he’d tried, the Constance he had known still wasn’t back. He had failed. Maybe she would come back, eventually, but she certainly wasn’t going to get her memories back by trying to trigger them.

The next time he had a moment alone, (which wasn’t much later) he starting thinking about his options on how to move forward.

He could keep trying to trigger her thoughts, but he’d tried everything likely to work. He wasn’t sure if he could find something more. Something better.

Beyond that, he started to wonder if it was even a bad thing that she didn’t remember anything. She was able to re-learn everything quickly, and possibly even learn more than she had known before.

Maybe her amnesia was a blessing, not a curse. Maybe it gave him a chance to start over. All the mistakes he made were erased, and things could go even better this time.

All that was left to do to create a happy ending was to have Constance fall in love with him again.

It didn’t take long for him to make a decision.

He wasn’t going to try to trigger her memories anymore. If they came back, they came back. If they didn’t, they still had another shot at their happily ever after.

Another chance to make everything good, to make everything right. He wasn't going to let this one fail.

Going forward, Will spent most of his time with Constance, even just being close to her. He wanted to make sure that nothing could get in between them to ruin their chance. He wrote her more stories, none of them as important as the first one, but he always made sure there was at least a semi-happy ending, because Constance loved them. It wasn't just that, though. Will did more than write for her.

During the years Will spent alone, when his only time with other people happened once a year, he had quite a lot of time to develop other talents. Some of them he hadn't touched on for years, or even decades, but he picked up a few of them again, even teaching Constance as he tried to re-learn or hone the skill.

One of his favorites that he was starting to teach her was music. Constance could sing remarkably well (Will had known that for a while), and she could recreate an entire song just by hearing it once, every lyric, every note, and every rhythm (Will was suspecting the reasons why), but beyond singing, her musical talents were scarce. Even nonexistent.

So Will started to teach Constance piano. He'd learned a surprisingly large amount of musical instruments, but piano seemed to be the best one to teach her first. He'd managed to find an old one in a room that looked like it hadn't been entered in years (which was accurate), so Will had worked to bring it back up to playing quality and teach himself how to play. It was one of the earliest things he tried. It had taken a while, but it had become one of his favorite pastimes since he started.

And now as he was teaching Constance, he was enjoying it more. He could tell it was difficult for her to get the hang of, but he could also tell she was enjoying it.

They spent a long time without entering the town during the day. Years, even. Time had worked strangely since he had become like this. Years could go by, but it never felt like years. Sometimes it only felt like months or weeks, but sometimes it felt like even longer.

These few years were the ones that went by quickly because Will was enjoying them. He'd never enjoyed any time as much as he was enjoying his time spent with Constance.

He only wished there wasn't the ache in his chest, knowing that he was with Constance, but that things were still not the same. She was there, but not completely. Not really.

It wasn't even the fact that she had lost her memories. He'd accepted that at least he tried to. The real problem was that he'd been with her for even longer now than before, but he didn't feel any further along.

Will always thought that he had stayed the same, that he hadn't changed in all those years, waiting for her, but maybe he had. Maybe he wasn't the same anymore.

Maybe he'd changed so much that he wasn't even the same boy that Constance had fallen in love with.

And wasn't sure if she would fall in love with him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really know where i'm going with this but whatever!
> 
> (also there's going to be a lot more of the music because I say so)


	8. The Music of My Soul

Will was sitting down in the main room, starting his usual routine in writing practice when Constance sat down next to him.

“Can we do a lesson?” she asked him, her eyes wide and her smile bright.

Will put the pencil in his book and shut it, setting it beside him and standing up. “Of course,” he told her, then walked over to the piano, sitting down on one end of the bench, leaving room for Constance to sit next to him.

She put her hands on the keys and started going through what she had been working on. Will closed his eyes and listened. He loved listening to her play. She wasn’t perfect, not nearly, but she was trying, and she was improving. Her enthusiasm for making music made up for any mistakes she made along the way. As she played, Will felt a smile forming on his face.

Everything felt right as he listened.

When she finished it, Will opened his eyes and started the lesson. She had certainly improved since the last time.

When they worked through what Constance was working on, she asked him, “Teach me something else.”

“Okay,” he replied. “What do you want to learn?”

She thought for a moment. “How about something… new? Create something.”

“I think the word you want is ‘improvise.’”

She nodded. “Improvise.”

“Alright…” He thought about how he should teach this. “How about I start with playing and you singing?”

She nodded. “What do I sing?”

“Whatever you want,” he told her. “When you improvise, you try something and see if it fits. If it doesn’t, you try something else next time. Do you remember the lesson I gave on key signatures?”

She nodded.

He suggested a key signature and a time signature, which she agreed with.

After that was decided, Will’s fingers ghosted on the keys as he tried to figure out how he would begin. He’d done some improvisation, but he wasn’t sure if he was good enough to accompany her. He waited for another beat before beginning.

He started with something simple. He was accompanying her.

When Constance started singing, he nearly fumbled, but he managed to keep control and continue.

He knew the words that she was singing, and it wasn’t something he’d ever taught her.

“Everything I knew, feels so new with you,” she began, the lyrics Will knew fitting perfectly with the music he’d never heard. “And I don't know where you’re going, but I’m going where you'll be. There’s so much waiting there… for me.”

His accompaniment trailed off in a diminuendo as she finished the last line. He looked at her, studying her again. This was a new breakthrough.

She was in there. She knew the song. Constance remembered something, subconsciously. She could remember more.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked him, concern in her eyes.

Will shook his head immediately. “Nothing’s wrong. That was… incredible.”

“Wonderful?”

He nodded. “Wonderful. Let’s try again, shall we?”

She nodded. “Can I pick the key?”

“Go ahead.”

She clapped her hands together—Will found it adorable—and decided, “A major. Three-four time.”

Will nodded. “You got it.”

He started again, trying something slightly more interesting. A couple of measures later, Constance began singing. This was something new, something she was truly coming up with on the spot. Still, there was proof. There was proof that she could remember.

The two of them tried improvising for a very long time. Most of the time Will was playing accompaniment while Constance sang, but Constance insisted that Will tried making up words to sing along. He was fine doing so, but he did prefer to listen to Constance sing.

She was like an angel in that way. More than just like an angel. She was one, or as close as you could get.

Every note she sang only made Will fall more in love with her. Every word echoed in his heart until every other noise was drowned out by the sound of her voice.

And the look on her face when they stopped. The glint in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks with her smile…

It was beyond Will’s powers of description.

The piano lessons used to be Will’s favorite time, but the lessons were quickly topped by the improv sessions. Not everything worked, and some things failed miserably, but it was so _good_ to sit beside her and let the music flow.

It quickly became the way they spent most of their time, switching off between the roles. They didn’t just improvise. They worked through written songs and duets, but it was truly the magic of making it up as they went along that was what made everything seem to fit.

Besides that first attempt, though, no progress had been made. Everything else she sang was new or read off the music.

But it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my only reasons for this chapter is that I wanted it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. This Time

Will wasn't quite sure how long they spent playing music. He knew it was a long time, possibly years. He didn't exactly regret it. They had all the time in the world, literally. It was alright to spend a long time creating music with no other reason than to enjoy it, no audience except for the two of them.

Still, in all that time, Will couldn't help but wonder what he would have been doing had Constance returned with her memories. Maybe they would have gotten there sooner. Maybe they wouldn't have needed to spend as much time teaching and instead could have been enjoying time together the whole time.

Or maybe they never would have gotten to this point. Maybe they never would have spent days, weeks, or months just creating music. He wasn't sure if those possibilities were worth the better possibilities. Nothing was set.

All he knew now was that he wouldn't trade what he'd experienced in these past years for anything, now that he'd experienced them, he never would wish them taken back, even with the constant ache in his chest. He'd grown used to it. The pain like that didn't bother him. He hardly noticed it anymore.

On a spring morning, Will glanced out the window, watching the town go about their days. It was strange. Never once had they been bothered, in all the time they had been here. It was as if the town had immediately forgotten them.

It was a good sign, Will decided. If the town didn't remember them, it wouldn't know them.

Maybe it would finally be safe to go outside during the day, further than just their own yard. It could have been safe the whole time, but Will was never willing to risk it.

He'd lost her before, and he was going to make sure that never happened again.

Will weighed the pros and cons of attempting to re-enter the town after so long. He knew that Constance had always longed to, even though she'd been willing to wait.

Maybe she wouldn't have to wait any longer.

Soon, he decided. Soon, they would try.

He told Constance so later that morning.

"How do you feel about trying to go into town again soon?" he asked.

She nodded. "Tonight?"

Will shook his head. He knew that was what she'd think immediately. "I was thinking sometime during the day."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, obviously not believing what she was hearing.

"Spindlewood, during the day?"

Will nodded with a chuckle. "You like that idea?"

She nodded fervently. "I'd love that."

Will knew she'd say that (though he had expected the word "wonderful" to be featured somewhere). "How do you feel about tomorrow?"

"Yes, wonderful!"

There it was. He knew it wouldn't take long. 'Wonderful' continued to be one of Constance's favorite words. Since she loved it and used it so much, it was becoming one of Will's favorites too. He didn't think he could hear that word be uttered by another person again. It would never live up to how Constance said it with such joy and enthusiasm.

"It's settled then," he agreed. "Tomorrow."

Constance was looking forward to it all day, and Will could tell. She couldn't just sit still and focus on one activity like she usually could. She was switching between them constantly. One moment she was reading, the next sewing, the next at the piano, the next wandering around and singing whatever words and notes came into her head.

The one thing that seemed to get her to pick an activity was Will's suggestion to make something special to wear. He never said what, but she immediately sat down and began making a dress. Wil wasn't sure if that was due to what she usually wore or habits that were coming through, but he certainly chose to hope one way.

Sometimes he had to hope, even if deep down, he knew it was nothing. He knew that he was reading too deeply into the situation. and that Constance was just rediscovering the things that she had enjoyed before, not that something deep inside of her remembered.

But he hoped that she did, that she was remembering, slowly, and she just wasn't realizing it yet.

That next morning, Constance came out wearing the dress that she had been working on the day before.

It was... different... from her other dresses, to say the least.

Most of the dresses she'd made (especially in the first part of her life) had a darker color scheme, usually with a dark brown (nearly back) as the main color, paired with something else, a brighter color, like gold or teal, as a couple of Will's favorites, and the ones that he had based his Storyteller costume off of. He'd obviously used her as inspiration.

This, though, was quite different from anything she'd made before.

It was bright and cheerful. This dress was almost completely made out of shiny gold fabric. It had a shorter cut, only going down to her knees in a circle skirt, which would not have been accepted back before, but was quite fine now, apparently. The dress was also sleeveless, and the only non-gold part of it was a sash of teal fabric in the middle, like a belt, the teal just as shiny as the gold.

He might have been reading too deeply into the gold and teal color scheme, though.

It was different, that was for certain, but Will liked it. He loved just how much Constance loved the dress, and just how beautiful she looked wearing it.

After forcing himself to say something, (since he realized that he'd been staring at her for probably too long), he held said to her, "I can't even express how beautiful your dress is."

"Wonderful," she told him, spinning around to show off the circle skirt part.

He nodded. "Wonderful." He then held out his arm to her. "Ready to go?"

She walked over to him and grabbed his arm.

Will considered quickly if they were really ready for this, but he knew that there was no way he was going to disappoint her now. She deserved this. She deserved to have her mood match the cheerfulness of her dress, and he wasn't going to stand in the way of making her happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my personal headcanon that Will based his Storyteller costume off of Constance's dresses and color schemes (and I've actually worked out Constance's dresses based on that). If anyone wants me to elaborate further on this, come and talk to me on my tumblr, @you-are-constance!!
> 
> (...i also made a Constance doll and created the dress described in here... if anyone's interested)


	10. The Next Step

Will glanced around nervously as they entered the town. He was sure that at any moment someone would recognize them—though he wasn’t sure how—and would do something. He wasn’t sure what the ‘something’ would be, but he was afraid that history would repeat itself.

He forced himself to remain calm, as there was no sign yet that anyone recognized them or thought it strange they were there.

Things were going well for the moment, but that didn’t stop Will from being on-edge.

The town had certainly changed a lot over time, but it still felt exactly the same down at its core.

It felt slightly suffocating, but that wasn’t exactly different.

Will wanted to get away from Spindlewood like he always had, but he wasn’t sure if both of them were ready for that. He wasn’t sure if Constance was ready for that.

Maybe eventually, they could get away and travel the world, but it wasn’t going to happen now. He’d waited this long. It wouldn’t be too hard to keep waiting.

Or maybe it would be hard, but either way, he’d have to wait.

Although he’d been skeptical about the safety of the two of them were they to go out into town, Will didn’t regret it. He hadn’t seen Constance smile this much in a long time. Even times when it was just the two of them, Constance didn’t smile as wide as she was now.

And oh how he loved to see her smile.

Constance’s smile was the most beautiful thing Will had ever seen, especially when she was so happy that her eyes absolutely sparkled.

He wanted to see her eyes sparkle even more. He wanted to make her happy enough to always get that sparkle in her eyes, the eyes that he adored so much.

And she looked so beautiful, absolutely radiant in the dress that she was so proud of.

Will couldn’t help falling in love with her more and more with each passing moment.

Constance held onto his arm as they walked through town, squeezing his arm tighter whenever she got especially excited about something, which happened quite a lot. He gazed at her as they walked, wishing desperately that he was able to express the love he felt for her, but not yet. For now, he just had to encourage her enthusiasm and love her from afar.

Figuratively, anyway.

They didn't head back home until the sun was starting to set. Constance didn't want to leave even then. She wanted to stay, but he convinced her it was time to head back.

"Can we come back tomorrow?" She had such a dreamy look on her face that Will didn't think he had it in him to refuse. He simply nodded.

"If you'd like."

"I would. I really would," she said with a smile.

Then she started talking about her favorite part of the day, her favorite parts of town, and basically everything that she loved, which was most of it. She was talking the entire night. Will couldn't bring himself to interrupt her if he had wanted to. She had the sparkle in her eyes again.

He knew now that the rewards had certainly outweighed the risks of going out into town. It seemed that the town had either completely forgotten about them or had really changed as Will had always hoped. Either way, they were safe.

They went back out into Spindlewood the next day. They interacted with the townspeople more than they had the day before. Things were really improving, more than Will thought it ever would since Constance didn't remember.

Maybe Constance didn't need her memories back. At this point, it might cause more pain than it was worth. Maybe it was a blessing that she didn't remember. Just as long as things didn't get worse, this might a blessing Will had never expected or even wanted in the first place.

The two of them went into town almost every day for a while. They (but mostly Constance) become friendly with the people, and still, nothing happened. No one knew about them, and no one even asked.

As Constance became more friendly with the people in town, she started to spend less time with Will. He tried to make himself believe that it was nothing, that she still loved him, even if it wasn't quite the same as before yet, but it was hard. He knew that she could do whatever she wanted with her time, and he didn't want to force her to do anything, but he still worried if he was doing something wrong. He wondered what he'd done wrong, and why things weren't like before. He wondered if he had truly become someone that Constance couldn't fall in love with.

Will started to go out to town with Constance less and less. He spent more time writing, but less time showing what he had written. He doubted that Constance even loved him before. It was so long ago, long enough that he couldn't possibly have remembered it perfectly, and maybe he'd been telling himself a lie this whole time.

But then Constance would come back home with the sparkle in her eyes, and he knew that even if she didn't love him back, he certainly loved her, and that was enough to stay. It was enough to know that whatever happened, he would be by her side.

It was difficult, but after a period of depression and disbelief, Will forced himself to focus instead on his love for Constance, instead of her love (or lack of) for him.

Slowly, Will connected with her again after falling away, and it was wonderful.


	11. Time

As more years passed, it became painfully aware that Constance didn’t understand how time worked for normal people. She watched as the people she had become friends with grew older and eventually died.

After learning that the friends she made (though none of them as close as she had before) were gone, Constance was silent and hardly moved for so long (the only reason Will was sure that she hadn’t frozen was that he’d still been winding her) that Will wasn’t sure what to do to help her.

She eventually started talking to him again, asking all sorts of questions that were incredibly difficult to answer.

“How does it work?” she asked him, but not being able to meet his eyes.

“How does what work?”

She breathed out as she tried to find the right words. “Life and death. How do they work?”

That was tough, really tough.

“People are born, they grow, they experience life, they love, and they grow old. Eventually, they die. It’s part of life. We’re different. You weren’t born the same way, you were built differently. You still live and… and love, but you don’t grow old. Neither of us can. We can’t die as they can.”

_But that doesn’t mean we can’t die._

“What about… time? How does time work?”

“Time… time ticks on, through anything and everything. It’s… constant. Time can’t stop for someone, no matter who they are. No matter how important they are to someone.”

“Then why doesn’t time affect us?” She finally turned her head to look at Will. "Why?"

"Because... because everything else is trapped inside time, but we're outside of it. Time changes and preserves eventually kills everyone else, but not us. We're outside of it."

She looked back down at her hands that were lying in her lap, becoming silent once again. She didn't speak again for a very long time; neither of them did.

"Constance," Will urged quietly. "You can talk to me." He wanted to help her. This was the first time (that she remembered) that she lost anyone she had grown close to. For Will, it had happened countless times over the years. Even before he was like this, he had lost so many people. He was well acquainted with loss, but Constance wasn't.

"I can help you through this."

Constance shook her head. "I don't know if anyone can really help."

"Constance, I've lost people before. I've lost people I'm close to. And I keep living on. It's our curse and our blessing. If anyone can understand, I can." She didn't respond. "I'm not trying to undermine your pain—"

"Undermine?"

"It means to lessen the power of something, in this case, to make you feel like the pain you feel doesn't matter."

"Oh."

Will waited for her to continue, but she didn't. He decided to keep trying. "I'm not trying to make you feel like you don't deserve to mourn, I just don't want you to go through it alone. I can help, if you'll let me."

She didn't reply or even glance at him.

"Constance—" She lunged forward—thoroughly surprising Will—and wrapped her arms around his neck. Will was surprised at first, but when she didn't immediately back away, he wrapped his arms around her. He wasn't completely sure what this meant, but he knew that she needed comfort.

Maybe they had made some progress after all.


	12. Somebody Gets Hurt

Constance didn’t dare get close to any of the townspeople for a while after that. She was terrified of getting hurt again. She was trying to protect herself from the pain of losing someone, but Will could tell it wasn’t working. She wasn’t herself anymore. He too wanted to protect her from the pain of having to lose someone, but this wasn’t what he wanted.

He knew it wasn’t what she had wanted either.

Will couldn’t handle it any longer. He wanted her back. Either the one he had fallen in love with originally or the one he kept falling in love with more. Right now, she wasn’t either of them. He wanted Constance back.

So he sat down next to her, gazing at her for a long time, but she never glanced over at him. She didn’t acknowledge that he was even there.

He eventually started talking, even though he wasn’t sure if Constance was listening.

“I know you’re afraid of losing someone, but you can’t go on like this,” he told her, hoping that she was actually willing to listen. He couldn’t watch her like this anymore. “Losing someone is terrible, especially if you’re really close to that someone, and even more for us. But the thing is, you can’t go on like this. You can’t just… lock yourself away and pretend like everything’s fine. You have to make your own choices, take risks, and sometimes get hurt. That’s what living is all about. Everyone is going to lose people, it sucks, I know, and we're going to lose even more than anyone else, but you can't just do this, Constance. You're protecting yourself from getting hurt, but it's not helping like you think it is. I guess, what I'm saying is, you can't lose yourself... No matter what happens, you have to promise me that you won't lose yourself, ever."

_I can't handle that._

She finally turned to look at him. "I... I don't know what was happening," she whispered. "I don't like this.... this feeling. It feels bad. It, it hurts."

Will nodded. "I know it hurts. A lot of things hurt, and sometimes the pain doesn't really go away. You have to just... carry on, I guess. Maybe you can't forget, and maybe you shouldn't, but you can't let anything like that pull you down forever."

She didn't respond, just looked at him for a while.

"If you want to talk, you can always talk to me. I'm always here."

She shook her head. "No talk, just... just be with me."

Will was happy to oblige. He put his arm around Constance as she leaned into him.

They were definitely making progress. Will just hoped it would be enough, and eventually, things would get to where they were before.

Though maybe "before" wasn't exactly what he wanted anymore.


	13. Dance With You

Things did improve after that. Constance started returning back to normal. She started going into town more often, but not as much as she had been before.

One day, a short while later, they were both sitting in the main room, quietly working on their own projects, when Will put his writing down and asked, “Would you like to dance?”

She looked up at him. “Dance? What is dance?”

“It’s just a fun thing to do with someone,” he explained. He stood up, reaching his hand out to Constance. “Come, I’ll teach you.”

He wasn’t a very good dancer, he hadn’t exactly had a lot of opportunities to practice, but he knew the theory. He knew how it worked. He just hoped that he knew it well enough to teach.

Constance took his hand and stood up. He pulled her close, positioning her hand on his shoulder while he still held her other one, then laid his other hand on her back.

He only paused for a moment at realizing just how close they were to each other. He quickly regained control of himself. He was just teaching her how to dance, that was it.

“This is how you begin, and this,” he began walking her through the steps, “is called a waltz. First, you step backward and me forward, just follow my lead.” They managed to complete the first step without incident. “And now you step to the side, the other side,” he corrected when Constance went the wrong way. “And now close your feet together, like so.” She completed that part fine as well. “That’s the first part, now we do it backward. You step forward, to the other side, and close your feet together. Yes! You’re getting it!”

She smiled at him. “That’s not so hard.”

Will nodded. “It’s quite fun to dance when you have someone to dance with. Now, a waltz is done in three beats, three-four time. One,” they did the first step, “two,” the second, “three,” and the third. “Now backward, one, two, three. Yes!”

“Fun,” she smiled.

Will nodded. “Yes, fun.”

They went through the steps a few more times until Will was sure that Constance had it down.

“How about we try it with some music?” he suggested.

Constance nodded, and Will let go of her. He crossed the room and started a slow song. He hadn’t caught up with the current technology, but he had certainly advanced from before. The song started as Will took hold of Constance again, then they started the steps.

Will mumbled the steps under his breath as they danced. There were a few times when they got off, but they managed to get back on the beat quick enough. After a while into the music when they were just following the steps, Will started to drift away from the simple steps. As the song was beginning to end, he spun Constance, her skirt twirling out around her, then brought her in back close to him.

The music faded out and the two of them stopped with it. Neither of them let go. He watched her, studying her face for a reaction. Her head was tilted down, and her eyes were drawn to the floor. Then she looked up and caught his gaze. They still didn’t pull away; Will wasn’t sure if he could, even if he had wanted to. His feet seemed to be stuck to the floor where he stood.

Will tried to speak, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Constance leaned ever so slightly closer to him, until the point where their faces were mere inches apart. Her eyelids fluttered, and with her eyes half-closed, she leaned in even closer. Will echoed the movement, his mind racing and empty at the same time.

Then Constance stopped, pulling back slightly, her eyes opening wide. She stood there for a moment, a look of fear on her face, then freed herself from Will’s grasp and ran out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My excuse for this chapter is that I wanted it


	14. Helpless

It took him a moment to realize what had—or hadn’t—just happened, but immediately after he ran after her, calling her name.

She had locked herself in her room, and even with Will calling out desperately for her, she didn’t respond.

“Constance, please, we have to talk,” he pleaded.

She still didn’t reply. He continued to try, but nothing he said could get her to respond to him.

Will eventually gave up on trying to get her to respond. Instead, he sat down outside of her door, waiting for her to come out.

It only happened hours later. Constance opened her door and came out into the hall, her back turned to him. The only thing she said was, “Will you wind me, please?”

Will stood up, the key was already in his hands. He’d been anticipating this.

“We need to talk first.”

“You need to wind me,” she shot back.

“Constance, something happened back there.”

“And it doesn’t matter. Now would you please wind me?”

“Constance—”

“No, stop.” She finally turned around to face him. “You’re trying to force me to talk to you about… about _that,_ but I don’t want to. You think refusing to wind me unless we do will work, and you’re right. You always say that you understand me, but you don’t. You don’t know what it feels like to be completely dependent on someone else. You don’t know what it feels like to be completely helpless, like I am. Now could you please wind me?” She turned back around, and Will was shocked speechless. He’d never thought about it like that before.

Will’s keyhole was in his chest. He could wind himself. He didn’t need anyone for anything. Constance, though, her keyhole was in her back. She was dependent on other people to wind her, and if the people refused, there was nothing she could do.

He wordlessly wound her and watched as she locked herself in her room once again.

Will waited outside her door for another long while. He didn’t call out her name or beg for her to talk to him, only waited for when she was ready.

It took a long time, but she eventually came out of her room. Will scrambled to stand up and tried to apologize for what had happened, but she stopped him,

“I don’t know what happened… between us… and I don’t know what to do about it yet,” she began slowly. “I just don’t want it, whatever it is, to change anything between us. I… I want to figure out what that is before we try to talk about it. Is that alright?”

Will nodded immediately. He tried to reach for her hand but forced himself to stop. He wasn’t sure if that would be wanted right now.

“If you want anything, anything at all, please talk to me.”

Constance nodded. “I will, thank you.”


	15. The Closer We Get

Will tried to be mindful of anything Constance needed for the next while, especially if she needed to be wound. He had always been aware of when she needed it, but now he was always made sure to be ready whenever she asked.

Constance didn't talk about the dance and what had happened after it. Will knew she was still trying to figure things out, and he knew it could take a long time. Constance didn't turn cold to him as he had feared, she just spent more time alone in her room—the door was never locked, but Will still didn't go in—trying to figure out what she was thinking. Or feeling.

In the times where Constance was in her room, sometimes Will passed by her door, wanting to go inside and check on her, but not wanting to invade her privacy. So he passed by her door multiple times, never daring to go in.

He tried to distract himself, but nothing seemed to last. for long. He wanted Constance to figure out her feelings, like he figured out his long ago, but he knew that this was completely new to her, that she could remember anyway. It was going to take a long time for her to figure it out.

It was hard, but he knew it would all be worth it, once she figured it out. It would all be worth it when he could hold her in his arms, and freely show his love to her.

One day, a long time after the dance, he passed by Constance's door, hesitating for a moment outside of it, then starting away again. As he walked away, he heard a crash coming from her room.

He ran back to her door, almost bursting in, but he stopped himself, instead deciding to knock and call out, "Constance? What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing," she called back, but there was panic in her voice.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment before replying with "There's no need for that!"

She didn't sound so sure of that.

He didn't like the fear in her voice.

"Constance, I'm coming inside," he told her, then started to open the door.

"No, you don't need to!" she insisted, but he had already entered, stopping in the doorway.

Constance's room was a complete mess, which was unlike her. There were large pieces of fabric and other objects spread everywhere across the room, on the floor, on the walls, covering every surface.

Constance was sitting on the floor, her hand on her head as she looked up at him, panic in her eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked, scanning the room.

"I fell, that's all," she insisted. "I'm fine." She didn't sound so sure of herself.

Will wanted to keep asking questions, but he wasn't sure of what questions he should even ask. There were too many that came to his mind all at once.

"What are you doing here?" was the one he actually decided to ask.

"It doesn't matter," she told him, standing up and trying to herd him out of her room. Will kept his feet planted.

"What really happened?" he asked.

Constance's fake "everything is alright" smile dropped ever so slightly. "I fell, I already told you—"

Her body seemed to crumple as she collapsed to the ground, crying out with her hands grasping at her head. Will rushed to catch her before she hit the ground, taking her into his arms as he tried to figure out what was happening. His eyes scanned the room again for any sign of what was happening and what had caused it, which was when he noticed what was spread out all over her room. There was an array of seemingly random fabrics, but more than that, he saw her own creations. He saw the dresses she had made before, the ones she had worn in her previous life. He saw the work of Abraham Reed, clocks and tools spread out with the dresses, books that she had read. Those were just a few things that were spread out in what Will thought was a mess, but it wasn't random. There was an order to this mess.

The order was in her memories.

She was starting to remember the memories she had lost.

And it didn't look to be a fun process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


	16. Memory

Will wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure how to help Constance through this, or even if he could, or anything.

He was panicking. He was terrified.

“Constance, Constance can you hear me?” He was desperately hoping she could.

Oh, no, no, no. He’d been wanting her to get her memories, back, but he’d grown used to what they had now. And this… this wasn’t what he had wanted.

“Constance, listen to me, I’m right here. You’re going to get through this. I’m right here with you.” He tried to sound as confident as he could, for Constance’s sake, but he was so afraid.

Constance was shaking in his arms, while also curled up as tightly as she could be.

Will continued to talk to her, to whisper words of encouragement, even if he wasn’t completely sure that she could even hear him. He kept trying to tell her that everything was going to be alright, even if he wasn’t so sure of that himself.

Constance was mumbling something under her breath, Will tried to listen, but it seemed to be random nonsense.

Will pulled her even closer when she let out a whimper.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”

It got worse quickly, eventually to the point where Constance was shaking terribly and crying out in pain almost constantly. Will still held her close.

“You’re going to get through this,” he told her.

Then, with a start, she opened her eyes and screamed, loud. She scrambled out of Will’s arms, still trembling. She wouldn’t look at him, but he could see that her eyes were wide with fear.

“I… I remember,” she said slowly. “I remember it all.” She was smiling ever so slightly, but the smile fell when she met Will’s gaze. “What didn’t you tell me?”

“Constance—”

“All this time, you knew all along, and you never told me. I thought you made that story up! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to; I just didn’t know if it would matter. If you never remembered, why would you want to know and be burdened by that knowledge?”

“You lied to me, this whole time! Was anything that you taught me even real? Did any of it even matter? Were you just going to start over and pretend that everything I—we went through never happened?”

“Constance, it was real—”

“I thought you were _dead,_ Will, and you just try to pretend that none of that even happened! It did happen, and I haven’t moved past that! I can’t move past that!” She started to stumble out of the room, one hand clutching at her forehead. “I need to think.”

“Constance, please don’t push me away.” He tried to follow her, but she—quite literally—pushed him back.

“I need to think,” she repeated, then ran down the hall, entered a room, and slammed and locked the door behind her.

Will turned to the wall, banging his head against it multiple times. This was all his fault. If he had just told her the truth to begin with, none of this would be happening.

Constance was betrayed because Will had lied to her in withholding the truth. Will knew what she was feeling because he’d felt it before. When he first found out what Constance really was.

They both had their chance to betray the other, and both had done it. Will knew that neither of them had meant it. Neither of them had wanted it.

Will hoped was that this wouldn’t ruin things between them forever, though it was likely it was what he deserved. He had still loved and trusted her after that ‘betrayal,’ and he still did, so maybe Constance could still love and trust him after this one.

Though, deep down, Will know that wasn’t what he deserved.

He’d lied to her, and he’d been lying to her for years. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. Not for any of this.

He didn’t deserve her love. He wasn’t sure if he would ever deserve it again.


	17. I am the One

Will went back into Constance's room, studying the 'mess' that had caused her memories to come back. Everything had been spread out like this before, so he wondered why it hadn't triggered all her memories before he came in. Though maybe it had started and that was the crash that he had heard.

He looked at the pieces of a puzzle that were spread out before him, trying to understand how she'd figured it all out. There were tools at the beginning of the array, tools that Abraham might have used to build her. Then there was a book, likely the first one that she had read. There was a clock. It took Will a moment to see how it fit in. This was the clock that she had spoken to when he came in to convince her to go to Amelia's wedding. He smiled with the memory. She had been so innocent, and kind of naive back then. He figured she must have talked to this one before, otherwise, it would have fit in somewhere else.

He saw a dress, the first one that she had worn out into town. There were swatches of fabric, white and pink satins, and small, pale blue gems. This was what she had used to make Amelia's dress. Next to that, he saw the dress she had worn to Amelia's wedding. She had looked so lovely in it. It was the only time she had ever tied her hair back in any way. He hadn't the courage back then to speak to her during or directly after the wedding (and he might have been in shock because of her dress), nor did he have it in him to separate her and Amelia, since they had bonded so quickly.

There were all sorts of fabrics that came next, what she had used to make dresses for all the women in town. There was the dress that she had been wearing in all the years she spent frozen, the dark brown with gold accents. He loved that dress of hers. Next, there was a picture, old and faded, but Will could still make out the person. It was a girl, she looked like Constance, but younger than she ever looked.

Will recognized the girl. This was Abraham Reed's daughter.

Will had never known her personally, but everyone in town had known of her. It was such a tragedy when she died. Will was still young when it happened, perhaps around thirteen. It was so long ago.

There was one thing after the picture. Will crouched down and picked it up. It was his hat, the grey one that he had worn almost all the time back then. the last thing he did before he 'died' was give it to her.

He'd hidden it away since then. In fact, he'd hidden all of this away. It had brought too many painful memories.

He'd hidden them all, long ago, but Constance found them. She'd found them and arranged them in the correct way to tell a story. She'd found the pieces and built the puzzle.

It was, amazing, what she had done, but now it had caused all of this pain.

He stepped back to look at the whole picture, which was when he noticed that there was an empty spot. A missing piece in the puzzle. In between the materials for Amelia's dress and the dress she wore to the wedding, there was supposed to be something there. 

But what? What could be missing between them? They weren't that far apart, time-wise. The only thing that Will could think of that happened between them was—

Oh.

He was the missing piece. They met officially when Constance went to deliver the dress.

When he came into her room, he must have stood in the empty spot, and that caused a flood of memories to return.

"Constance," he whispered to the air. "I'm so sorry."

He felt terrible. How could everything have happened like this? How could it all have gone so horribly?

He'd never meant to turn everything into the mess it was now. He’d never meant for everything to go so _wrong._


	18. Come What May

Will didn't dare try to get Constance to talk to him. He had learned from last time. He waited for her to make the choice. Will stayed in her room for a long time. He had completely broken down, unable to even move for a while due to the pain. He’d screwed up. He knew he had. Everything that was happening seemed so strange, so... fast.

And then, when he left her room, he walked slowly down the hall to where she had locked herself away again. He stood near the door, his head laid against the wall. He wanted her to talk to him, but he knew not to make her do so. He knew that if she was going to forgive him—or even talk to him—it would only come when she wanted it to, not when he wanted it.

So he still waited outside her door. He waited for her to come out of her own accord, and maybe consent to talk to him.

But she wasn’t coming out, not after a very long time. Something told him that this time, Constance wouldn’t be the one to make the first move in this. Will had to apologize first.

He went to the door, almost knocking, but stopping himself.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you would even want to listen,” he began, “but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for everything. I was—” He couldn’t continue that sentence. He was trying to make excuses, but there was no excuse for what he’d done. “It doesn’t matter what I was trying to do. I never should have hidden anything from you. I did wrong. I know I did, and I know I can’t just make it right, but I’m terribly sorry. There’s… there’s nothing more I can say.” He waited for a moment by her door, but when there was no noise from inside, he started to walk away.

Then the door opened just a crack. Will turned around, seeing her through the crack in the door, but he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. "How do I know that you aren't still lying to me?" she asked, which hurt, a lot, but Will knew that it was justified.

"I guess, you don't," he said quietly. "There's no way that I can prove that I'm telling the truth. There's no way to prove that I'm even worth trusting again, but I truly am sorry. I... I want you to know that."

She didn't respond at first.

“No more secrets,” she eventually told him.

He nodded. “No more secrets. I promise.” After everything he’d done wrong, he needed to make sure it would never happen again. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but it was a start. He’d tell her everything because it was what she deserved.

"A very long time ago, you said that we all have to make our own choices," she continued, the door opening slightly more.

Will nodded. It sounded familiar.

"I'm making my own choice right now. And I choose to trust you."

"I promise, I'll be better." He didn't just want her to trust him, he wanted to earn it.

“And I… I still want what we had… recently," she continued slowly. “I want to sing and play music and dance with you, but it’s going to be different now, isn’t it?”

“It might, but it could be better. We can still sing and play and dance like before, but now… now…”

“Now I know that I love you.”

Will wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It felt… _good,_ though. Really good.

"Do you still not believe in fate?" she asked.

He... he wasn't sure. Not anymore. He was so adamantly against it before, but now...

Nothing was as simple anymore.

"I think, maybe, sometimes even making our own choices can't change what is set," he considered. "But you can't let it control you. You can't let anything or anyone control you."

"I believe in fate. I think that without it, we would never have gotten this far. But I also think it's not up to fate to determine what comes next. Only we can determine that."

Constance then threw the door open the rest of the way and ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. "I love you, Will. I love you.”

Will wrapped his arms around her, choking out, “I love you too,” and kissing the side of her head. He picked her up and swung her around, resulting in her uncontrollable giggling, which Will adored.

When he put her back down, she looked up at him, her eyes wide, and asked, “Can we dance?”

He nodded, “Of course.” Then the two of them went out into the main room where they’d have more space.

Will held her close as they danced. It felt so good, so… _right._

He’d been living with an ache in his chest for so long that he’d hardly noticed it. He’d forgotten how _good_ it was to be without that pain, that ache.

Will stared ahead at Constance, both of them locking eyes. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling more than ever before.

"I love you, Will" she whispered.

"I love you, too, Constance."

He could get used to this feeling of joy, of belonging, of peace.

He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew that whatever may come, whatever tempests rage around them, they’d be together, and nothing could separate them. He’d waited long enough for this. They both had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they dance and play music and sing and travel the world together and live happily ever after. the end.
> 
> Chapter Titles in case anyone is curious (all from ones I've listened to):  
> Something Different: The Band's Visit  
> Come Home With Me: Hadestown  
> Wonderful: Wicked  
> Believe: The Scarlet Pimpernel  
> Somewhere That's Green: Little Shop of Horrors  
> Once Upon Another Time: Love Never Dies  
> Remember This: The Mad Ones  
> The Music of My Soul: Memphis  
> This Time: Before After  
> The Next Step: Before After  
> Time: Tuck Everlasting  
> Somebody Gets Hurt: Mean Girls  
> Dance With You: The Prom  
> Helpless: Hamilton  
> The Closer We Get: Before After  
> Memory: Cats  
> I am the One: Next to Normal  
> Come What May: Moulin Rouge  
> (I only picked the songs based on the titles, not necessarily the songs themselves)
> 
> I'm thinking about writing out another fic in Constance's perspective (but I'm not very practiced at her perspective). Is that something that anyone would be interested in? I don't know if I'll actually get around to it, but we'll see, I guess!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments appreciated! (I'm not going to publish any that swear, so be aware of that)


End file.
